Chapter 1: Paradox
Before the driest leaf leaping off from the branch could touch the soil, Sahith had another question. People had already started to notice a pattern. In such a gathering of monks and common people sitting under a humongous banyan tree, it was surely a moment of entertainment they didn’t realise they needed. A monk being ridiculed by constant questions, sometimes not even getting the required time to answer, is a sight to behold. Especially at a time when preaching was supposed to be the most important thing for this society.
“Tell me now, why should a person who has nothing to eat, nothing to wear, or nothing to live by, indulge himself in meditation? Does meditation make his stomach full? Is there some divine rewarding system going on behind those closed eyes?” Sahith asks, sitting with his legs crossed like everyone else.
People are now fully immersed in the experience, as if someone has finally represented them, asking questions they had been longing to ask but couldn’t. Each pair of eyes glued to the direction of the monk. The monk was a young one, sitting right under the tree at the slightly risen height of the roots. He looked at the people and said:
“Meditation surely doesn’t provide you with food or any other wealth, but as our master says, it provides you with the awareness to go beyond these material cravings. That is the supreme state. Don’t we all want to be free from our cravings?”
The leaves are still on the branch, swaying with a cool wind teasing the earth and the gloomy afternoon clouds. The eventual yawns, subtle, yet recurring enough to suggest what people would rather prefer than this. “So, your process suggests that a man must leave all his material activities and come to you to learn to meditate. Now, that person may do well or worse by his own will, but what about his family he has to provide for? His duties and liabilities? Let alone his desire for more wealth—what about his duty? Would the lender spare him just because he has chosen ‘The Higher Path of Meditation’?” exclaims Sahith in an almost animated way.
Sahith’s companions, fellow youthful individuals, roar in unison expressing agreement and support. They stand up and provoke the monk and his company to answer the question. It took them a millisecond or less to stand and start mocking the monks in a dancing manner. This situation might have been an inch away from turning into a mob-lynching phenomenon. Sahith waves them down and their misplaced youthful energy. Sahith is ready with another question. Before his hand, just helping his questioning mouth, could do a full circle in the air, the monks stepped out of the crowd and left without a word. Beliefs, drifting and moving with the wind’s will, were forced into a sack by one of the yawning ones. According to him, the weather demanded sleeping by a fire.
